


evenly-matched

by therentyoupay



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Baristas, Coffee Shops, Drabbles, F/M, Ficlets, Modern Era, Pirates, Post-Canon, Vampires, Witchcraft, Witches, quick-fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentyoupay/pseuds/therentyoupay
Summary: a collection of drabbles, ficlets, and quick-fics. entirely tahnorra. most are alternate universes.





	1. low ; [modern!au]

**Author's Note:**

> _08/17/18_. another birthday has come and gone!! and still, i am here, adding to my tahnorra collection, lolololol.
> 
> here are all the drabbles, ficlets, and quick-fics i have accumulated over the past few years from tumblr prompts. they are all tahnorra in nature, they are all intended to be stand-alone pieces, and they are all extremely short. they are posted in ~relatively chronological order, according to when they were written and originally posted.
> 
> you can also find them on my [tumblr](https://therentyoupay.tumblr.com).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: aug 8th, 2014 @ 10:10pm

**low ;**  

> A sound escapes him, guttural and low— _her hand slips down to the button of his jeans, his mind explodes against the rear passenger door_ —and then he is sucking in air through a gasping mouth, and  _Korra’s_ — _her_  mouth, on his throat—and Tahno, on his back in the backseat of his own car— _and just when he thought he couldn’t sink any lower—_ she does.

  

→


	2. bootleg ; [pirate!au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: aug 8th, 2014 @ 10:10pm

**bootleg ;**

> “Not to your taste, love?” he smirks through rum-stained breath, a sinful sweetness to match the salt on the ocean’s nightly breeze; she digs her heels into the sand and glares,  _but says nothing_ , and Korra— _with eyes made of sea, heart made of stone, soul made of fire_ —tilts her head back and takes another mighty swig from the filthy bottle, simply out of spite.  

 

→


	3. glasses ; [post-canon]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: aug 8th, 2014 @ 10:11pm

**glasses ;**  

> Tahno watched the glasses of champagne reach high toward the night sky, wishing the Avatar and her beloved all the very best; he raised his own into the air _(heavy arm, heavy heart)_ and wondered why he felt so weak.

 

→

 


	4. halloween ; [witchcraft!colonial!au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: october 12th, 2015 @ 9:57:18am

**halloween ;**

> “Get  _down_ , I said—” came the harsh whisper, fierce and feral and  _terrified_ , and in the next instant Korra found herself on the ground, choking on the musty smell of soured wine that stained the long, pale fingers covering her mouth; it was only as she inhaled a dizzying, putrid breath to scream that she realized the witch hunters were marching past— _Noatak at the front, torches ablaze, casting menacing shadows in the forest, calling for blood_ —and Korra knew, suddenly, just whose shaking arms were around her.

 

→

 

 


	5. separated ; [witchcraft!colonial!au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: september 23rd, 2016 @ 11:00:51pm

**separated ;**

> ‘ _ **witchcraft**_ ,’ they hissed, like a curse they so feared, spitting like snakes, spreading like a merciless pyre, but they don’t know— _they don’t know_ —that the  _strong powerful fearless_ woman they stole from korra’s hideaway is not the one who controls the essence of the earth, who sings with the fire they mean to feed her to, and what they don’t know— _they don’t know_ —can kill them.

 

→

 

 


	6. chapel ; [vampire!au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: august 17th, 2018 @ 7:01:22 am

**vampire!au**  —

> “Last I saw you,” Korra’s voice echoes through the pews, the arches, through the empty promises of sanctuary, but she will not let her voice waver, she will  _not—_  “You were on your knees.”
> 
> Tahno swaggers down the aisle, as pale as she’d seen him in the moments before Amon had summoned the chains; before Amon had ordered the release of the burning sunrise through the screaming skylight, with its gaping, yawning maw; before she’d seen,  _smelt_ the flesh darken and curl from his bones—
> 
> “We  _are_ in a place of worship,” he hedges, and his voice is just as she remembers, slow and poisonous like hot ichor, thick and dripping like congealing blood, and it’s wrong,  _it’s wrong,_ but he’s here,  _here_ he is, falling before her, to his knees.  

 

→

 

 


	7. camping ; [sci-fi!au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: august 17th, 2018 @ 12:40pm

**sci-fi!au**  —

> “No complaining,” Korra snaps, because she has  _had_ it with this nonsense—between the sudden ice storm and the navigator losing its frequencies; after only just managing to find this cave in the last few spaces of breath before the boulder-sized hail started to hit; after listening to Tahno  _whine_ for over 17 standard hour units on this godforsaken planet—
> 
> “You better remember that,” Tahno huffs, staring pointedly at what’s left of their supply pack in the cold, generated light of their only remaining lamp, and grins so sharp and so lewd and  _so_ annoying, “Because  _I_ won’t be the one complaining.”
> 
> Korra looks over, brow furrowing, lip curling, as she takes in the sight of the only functional sleeping pack that’s survived the journey, and utters a sharp, decisive, “Fuck.”

 

→

 

 


	8. passing notes ; [pastry chef vs. barista!au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted: august 23rd, 2018 @ 6:22:19am

**pastry chef vs. barista!au**  — 

> “What in the hell do you call  _this_?”
> 
> His patrons look up, momentarily startled—then return to their morning sweets, unfazed.
> 
> She’s a thrashing storm in an apron; a tsunami dusted in stray pastry flower; an earth tremor enhanced by the scent of freshly-ground coffee beans; a hurricane in ruffles, which ‘ _for the record,’_  she  _’never agreed to, okay, it’s just for publicity, or something, I don’t know it’s Tarrlok’s stupid rule, god I wish they would fire him already_ —‘
> 
> She’s already here, flown across the street like wildfire in a pastry shop, and speaking of such—Tahno keeps working the dough with his roller. He has precisely 5.4 seconds until his refusal to acknowledge her will flip her over the edge, so somewhere  _just_ around the tipping point, Tahno finally deigns her with an impervious glance.
> 
> Except. Except one of his  _petit fours_  is already sitting on the countertop in front of him, which means that she has leaned over the glass barrier— _again_ —and interrupted his perfectly sanitary working space to deposit it there. Again.  Clearly, the young amateurs of Avatar Legendary Coffee Roasters care little about the ways of food safety rules and regulations.  _Tsk_. He should offer her a private session to... review them.
> 
> “Tahno, we had a  _deal_ —we can’t sell your stupid cakes if your face is etched over all of them! In  _cocoa!_ ”
> 
> He lifts his gaze as he spreads his fingers wide, stretching and smoothing and caressing the dough precisely into place... he could do this blindfolded, he thinks, and smirks. Perhaps she’s finally taken notice?
> 
> “Oh? Having some sales trouble,  _Uhavatar_?”
> 
> “That’s not the point and you know it,” she glares, nearly spitting fire, already rounding on her heel. She’s rampaging out the same way she rampaged in: apron billowing, fists clenching, lividity reeling. “Keep to the damn logo!” she calls, and slams the door behind her with an incongruous twinkle of bells.
> 
> //
> 
> “The usual,” Tahno drawls. “Unless you’ve forgotten.”
> 
> The tall, broody one glares like flashes of lightning; impressive, at first, in their raw energy—but quickly forgotten.
> 
> Tahno can practically see the flames shooting out from his eyeballs as the tall, angry cashier lowers his gaze to the cup he’s scribbling on.  _Ah_ , Tahno notes; he is being fastidiously ignored. The tall one is still not speaking to him, then? Uhvatar must have wrangled him into not uttering a word, lest the oaf damage their business partnership.  _Interesting._
> 
> Tahno scans the barcode from his phone—the newest model, but of course, fresh from four days ago—without breaking antagonizing eye contact with the tallest barista. The strain on the aproned oaf is obvious; Tahno’s grin curls deliciously.
> 
> “Fantastic customer service, as always,” he tosses, like lazy syrup filled with hidden razors, and steps back from the register. He’s thoroughly enjoying the sensation of laser beam-focus that is trying to melt the flesh from his bones. Flicks a disinterested hand over his shoulder as he nears the end of the bar. “See you, Taco.”
> 
> “It’s  _Mako._ ”
> 
> “So… where’s your star barista this fine morning?” Tahno asks, slowly, deliberately, and glances behind the bar towards the other one—the smaller, shorter, exuberant one. Said barista flips his coffee bean scoop in the air for a full double-rotation and catches it seamlessly, like that is any sort of feat at all.
> 
> “ _Working,_ ” answers the taller, angry Mako. “You know. Like  _some_ of us do.”
> 
> “She’s in on a conference call,” interrupts the young Bolin with a genuine grin. Tahno’s gaze narrows in spite of himself; Bolin used to be so afraid of him. What’s changed? Where did the fear go? His sudden self-assuredness is…. unnerving. Bolin sets Tahno’s to-go cup down onto the counter and amicably offers, “Wanna leave a message?”
> 
> Tahno considers it.
> 
> “She knows where to find me,” is all he says as he takes his to-go cup and strolls toward the exit, feeling the tell-tale fire as it burns satisfying, invisible marks into his back all the way out the door, and then some.
> 
> It isn’t until he gets across the street and back into his office, into his desk chair, that he glances down at the side of his cup.
> 
> _Your eyeliner’s smudged._
> 
> Twenty seconds later, Tahno tosses the hand mirror to the hard desk with a grating clatter, his sneer stretching something vicious, and his heart-rate is  _not_ climbing, it is not, it is  _fine_ , and that’s final.
> 
> //
> 
> Tahno stares down at the new to-go cup that has suddenly appeared before him.
> 
> “Delivery!” comes the cheerful answer from Bolin, presented with an accompanying wink. Ruffled, but electing not to show it, Tahno wordlessly picks up the still-too-hot cup.
> 
> “I didn’t pay.”
> 
> Bolin beams. “It’s on the house.”
> 
> Perturbed even further, Tahno eyes the lid with obvious suspicion. “Is it poisoned?”
> 
> Bolin lifts a cupped hand to his mouth and offers a conspiratorial whisper, “With neighborly support.”
> 
> If it’s bait, he isn’t biting. “Why?”
> 
> “As a special bonus-thank you!” Bolin broadly declares. “Your little baby-cakes are selling like mad!”
> 
> “ _Baby_ -cakes?”
> 
> “Here, check ‘em out! The Lady-Master of the house has sent you one as an offering.”
> 
> Tahno looks down at the creation of his own design— _his_  creation, his work,  _his_  victories—(and Ming and Shaozu’s help, yeah, whatever)—and stares.
> 
> “I have a mustache,” Tahno muses, confused, as he stares down at the obvious… alternations that have been made to his  _petit four_  design. “And… orange hair.”
> 
> He’s never been one for the heat, but he can feel his blood begin to simmer; he’s not sure it’s entirely anger.
> 
> “Yeah! Isn’t it delightful? The sales have never been higher!”
> 
> Oh, wait—maybe it is.

 

→


End file.
